


O Night Divine

by spirithorse



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 07:24:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16990584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirithorse/pseuds/spirithorse
Summary: Sometimes Christmas is a ruin, an archeologist, and his seraph boyfriend.





	O Night Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to be adventurous and try my hand at a Christmas movie prompt. The one I got was A Heavenly Christmas. A person's untimely death leads to their recruitment as a Christmas angel. For their first task, they are assigned to help a struggling artist, with whom they accidentally fall in love. I decided to take the route of using the summary and running with it. Title taken from the Christmas carol _Oh Holy Night_.

Sorey traced his fingers over the carvings as he walked, the lantern he held in his other hand throwing them into a strange kind of relief. Outside of the circle of its light, they were muted and almost in black and white. Inside of light, they were in bright color, the shadows on them deep. Sorey dipped his fingers into the shadows between the carvings before tipping his head up to look at the carving above the decorative border.

Paieces had fallen off over time, but the main portion of it was still there. Sorey lifted his lamp, smiling at the scenes of daily life. The village that had once been served by the temple was long gone with only the foundation stones left. The rest of the village had been made with wood and daub, things that weren’t meant to last forever. Permanence was for the temple and the seraph that resided in it. Still, the people were in the village in the arrangement of the houses and the contents of their middens and in the carvings here. They looked happy enough, although Sorey was sure that there had been hard times. There must have been something to get them to move away.

He ran his fingers over the border again before stepping away. Sorey looked at the carving one more time before turning on his heel. He would be back in the morning to record the carvings, it was too dark to see things clearly enough to draw them exactly.

Sorey glanced back into the depths of the temple, tempted to continue walking through it in the dark. There was a different kind of glory on it now. During the day it was imposing, full of the wonder of the seraphim, especially the one who was the Lord of the Land. At night, it was private, just him and his circle of light. Sorey was sure that there had been plenty of others that had walked the hallways with their lights, seeking out the Lord of the Land and their vessel to pray, much like he was. Although, his job would be easier if he could talk to the seraph who had lived here. But that would take some of the fun out of it.

Sorey swayed in place, watching as his breath fogged in the air. Heading that way would be going back into the big hall, which would be colder.

The temple was a community in itself, the back portion for the seraph and the humans that were associated with the temple and the worship of the Lord of the Land. There were separate entrances for that, smaller doors and corridors, not the grand entry into where the Lord of the Land’s vessel would be waiting in the great hall.

Sorey had spent hours in the room, staring at the ceiling and feeling the old resonance of the feelings there. People had lived by the temple for hundreds of years. There was something of them left if he paid attention. Sorey was sure that he could hear them sometimes, the people in the village shuffling in to greet the Lord of the Land before asking for their help. It would be with their family, with the crops, with the weather.

Even in the back hallways, the ones where the priests had lived Sorey could feel something. Contentment, peace, maybe a bit of the rush. And thousands of their own prayers piled on the others, and most of them the same. He smiled to himself before turning on his heel and heading back deeper in the priests’ quarters. He followed the familiar path back to the rooms that they had taken for the length of the expedition.

Sorey picked his way over some of the rubble, lowering his lantern when he saw the flickering light just ahead of him. He reached down with his free hand to turn the lantern off. The light from the room was more than enough.

It meant that Mikleo was there.

Sorey stepped into the room, closing his eyes at the feeling that pervaded the room. Whoever had lived here before had really loved the room. Of course, Sorey was sure that more than one person had lived in the room, but there had been at least one person who had loved it. It was their home and that feeling had sunk into the very stones.

He reached out for the doorframe, waiting until he was grounded there before looking into the room.

A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, warming the room. All of his gear was piled up carefully by the makeshift desk he had made with a pile of stones and a stray board from the ruin. The things he had left were still on the table, but someone had carefully rearranged things so the surface wasn’t a mess. More pointedly, the notebooks were closed. If that wasn’t a hint, he didn’t know what was.

Sorey walked over to the table, setting the lantern there. He paused to run his fingers over the notebook before looking back towards the center of the room.

It was empty, Sorey frowning for a moment before looking up towards the platform on one side. It ran halfway up the wall, right underneath the window at the top. Sorey had never dared to test it with his weight, there were sturdier ones in the temple and far more examples of them in other temples. It was still harshly debated what it was for, whether it was to create more space in the rooms for storage, a place to sleep in the hot summers or to bring them closer to the seraphim. Sorey wasn’t sure what it was himself, and it didn’t matter now.

What mattered was the person sitting on the platform, one hand holding back the tarp that he had tacked over the window. It was good for the summer, but it was the dead of winter, and the drafty temple was cold enough. It didn’t look like the cold bothered him.

Sorey smiled when the man looked back at him, raising his hand to wave. Mikleo didn’t wave back, he just dropped the tarp back into place. Mikleo turned to look at him properly, Sorey struck by the fact that the seraph wasn’t wearing his Shepherd’s cloak. A quick look showed that it was folded and placed to the side. Sorey stared at the carefully folded square of fabric.

He half expected to see it sliding through the platform and to the floor, even though he knew it didn’t work that way. Seraphim might have been human once, before their deaths, but they were solid enough now.

Sorey looked over Mikleo, swallowing hard at the sight of the clothes that Mikleo wore underneath. It wasn’t like the seraph was naked, and Sorey had gotten plenty of glimpses of what was under the Shepherd's cloak as they had worked in the ruin. But a glimpse was not looking at it in the open. Sorey hadn’t realized how tight the teal and white shirt that Mikleo wore was, nor how it fitted him so well. Sorey was sure that there was a corset involved somewhere, which made him swallow _hard_.

He glanced away for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking back up at Mikleo. By then, the seraph had stood up and was making his way down from the platform, but the Shepherd’s cloak remained behind. Sorey glanced up at it before looking back at the seraph.

Mikleo had paused at the bottom of the platform, the seraph petting the raised side that served as a guardrail. His fingers lingered on it for a moment. Mikleo’s fingers twitching against the stone before turning to look at him. The serious expression on his face softened a bit, Mikleo smiling at him.

“I thought we discussed not wandering through the ruins at night.”

Sorey shrugged, his gaze jumping from Mikleo’s waist and back to his face a few times before he sighed. “It’s peaceful.”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow, Sorey shaking his head. “The people before…they were at peace here. It’s nice to be here and feel that.”

“Here instead of…somewhere else.”

That was a pointed hint, something that Mikleo had dropped every once and a while. Sorey was tempted to push, but he wasn’t in the mood. The temple was calm, and warm against the cold from outside. And there was Mikleo, not wrapped up in the trappings of the Shepherd that he had been. This was something new, an opportunity.

Sorey shrugged, turning back to the cot that he had set up close to the fireplace. He sunk down onto it with a groan, bracing himself with his hands behind him. Sorey sat there for a moment before reaching over to pat the empty space beside him. As always, Mikleo was quick to follow, Mikleo sitting down beside him.

Sorey jerked his hand back before Mikleo could sit on it, although he was tempted to rest his hand over Mikleo’s. The open invitation of Mikleo’s hand was almost as dangerous as the temptation of his waist. Sorey was sure that his arm would fit nicely there, and then he could tug the seraph up against his side. Maybe then Mikleo wouldn’t look like he was sticking out so much in the world.

His fingers twitched as he set his hand back down on the cot, Sorey taking a deep breath. He didn’t quite know if he was readying himself for what Mikleo asked of him, or pushing other ideas out of his head. Either way, the question was still there.

Sorey smoothed his fingers over the blankets, chasing a wrinkle as he spoke. “Where else?”

He saw Mikleo shift, not daring to look away from the wrinkle. Sorey jumped when fingers brushed over his, watching as Mikleo’s fingers hovered over his hand. They twitched, Sorey shivering at the brief touches those caused, but he wasn’t sure if Mikleo noticed. He tensed his jaw, Sorey taking a few deep breaths before looking up at Mikleo.

The seraph wasn’t looking at him directly, but around the room. Sorey didn’t think he was looking for something, not with the way that Mikleo was sneaking glances at him.

Whatever the seraph was stuck on didn’t last long, Mikleo sighing and looking back at him. “You should be at home with family.”

“They’re gone.”

Mikleo startled at that. He stared at Sorey for a moment before shaking his head. “Friends then.”

“Oh.” Sorey rubbed at the back of his neck. “I’m sure that they’re doing something. Rose always gets…creative this time of year.”

“So?”

“I could use a break.”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow, the seraph shaking his head. “I’m concerned about what that means.”

“Nothing like that. At least…not since the Flaming Ham Incident.”

“I’m frightened now.”

“Alisha was quick with the fire extinguisher.” Sorey rubbed at the skin between his forefinger and thumb. There was a small scar there from an unrelated incident. Different accident, same kind of celebration. He pressed against the small scar before shaking his head. “Don’t worry, Rose isn’t allowed to cook anymore.”

Mikleo held a breath that he didn’t need, releasing it a moment later. The seraph slumped forward, reaching back for something before he seemed to remember himself. Sorey watched him touch the back of his head, like something was missing there before Mikleo shook his head. “Never mind then, it sounds like you’re saving yourself.”

“I guess. But I’ll probably go back next year.” Sorey smiled at Mikleo, daring to scoot closer. “I’m not regretting this. When else will I get to study a village and temple complex?”

“Alone?”

“Not really. If you pay attention there are others here.”

Mikleo cocked his head to the side, Sorey sure that it wasn’t confusion. Seraphim were a kind of mystical being, it made sense that they would at least be able to sense others like them.

Sorey shifted so he was sitting entirely on the bed, crossing his legs. Mikleo hesitated before mirroring him, the seraph resting his chin in his hands. “So you noticed them?”

“I noticed you.” Sorey smiled.

“So you did.” Mikleo smiled slowly, Sorey feeling his stomach twist.

He swallowed hard, wishing that he could look away, but Mikleo’s gaze kept him trapped. At a loss of what to do, he dropped his hands into his lap. “Y-you can feel it in here. What they all felt, what they prayed for, it stayed behind. It’s nice.”

Sorey expected Mikleo to glance around to check him, but Mikleo just nodded slowly. “This temple was loved. The village was loved.” Mikleo sighed and straightened up. “But you’re still alone.”

Sorey shrugged. ”We’ll, you’re here.”

“You’re surrounded by dead people.”

“Well…” Sorey let the word drag for a moment as he looked around. As always, his gaze drifted back to Mikleo, like it always did. Sorey was sure that it always would. His gaze dropped to the gentle curve of Mikleo’s waist, quickly jerking his gaze up again. He thought he saw the corner of Mikleo’s mouth twitch, which meant that the seraph had noticed.

Sorey gave him an apologetic smile, raising one shoulder in a shrug. He was pleasantly surprised when that was enough to encourage Mikleo to drop his hand onto Sorey’s.

Sorey swallowed, looking down at their hands before up at Mikleo. The seraph was cold, he always had been. Sorey supposed it had to do with his element. The few other seraphim he had met had been different. Lailah was warm, like a fire. Edna and Zaveid fluctuated with the weather. Dezel was always a cool breeze. And Mikleo was always cold, like the depths of a pond.

He took a deep breath, leaning forward slightly. “I’m not.”

Mikleo blinked before leaning back, shaking his head. “Sorey…there’s no one here. There’s just…memories. Everyone that lived here is dead. _I’m_ dead. I’ve been dead for…”

“700 years.”

Mikleo nodded, his chin dropping. “Seven hundred years. You can’t even pretend that I’m anything other than that.”

Sorey scooted closer. “You’re a seraph.”

Mikleo glanced over at him. “That’s what happens when a Shepherd gets lucky.”

“Yeah, but you’re alive now.”

The statement hung between them, Sorey watching as Mikleo’s eyes went wide. He expected Mikleo to snap back or say something to steer the conversation to something else. It was what he always did. But Mikleo was silent, Sorey staring at him until Mikleo started to move his hand.

Sorey reacted before he could really think through what he was doing. He snatched up Mikleo’s hand, holding it tightly between his own. He felt Mikleo jerk slightly, but the seraph didn’t try to pull away after that. Sorey breathed out, switching his grip so that he was cradling Mikleo’s hand instead of clinging to it.

He dared to scoot closer, relieved when Mikleo didn’t move away from him. This was something better said close, something that Mikleo couldn’t misinterpret. “You’re not human anymore, but you are a seraph. It’s a different kind of life, that’s all.”

Sorey paused for a moment, tipping his head to the side. “And I have plans with my friends as soon as I get back. They understand. They all went to be with their families this year.”

“And you went to a ruin.”

“You say that like I don’t want to be here. And that I’m not with someone I want to be with.”

Mikleo’s mouth dropped open, Sorey watching as he worked through it. He thought that Mikleo would say something, but the seraph’s mouth just opened and shut.

Sorey shifted in place before leaning forward. He meant to just tip Mikleo’s mouth closed and joke about something, but his fingers lingered on Mikleo’s chin a moment too long. Sorey realized that he was nudging Mikleo’s face towards him. He breathed out a ragged breath as Mikleo leaned towards him, his fingers smoothing back over Mikleo’s jaw.

He didn’t know who covered the last of the distance between them, but Sorey was sure that it didn’t matter in the end. All that mattered was that they were meeting, Sorey tipping his head so he could meet Mikleo in a kiss.

He heard Mikleo make a soft sound just before they kiss, something that might have been his name, but it was lost as Mikleo surged forward. Sorey felt hands in his hair, keeping him close as Mikleo kissed back, desperate and needy. Sorey met him eagerly, looping an arm around Mikleo’s waist as he pulled them backwards onto the cot.

END


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